Capricorn 13° (January 3)

I made a Golden beet risotto last night for dinner that we had for leftovers for lunch . I think I told you all that mark Marin and I were born in the same hospital within hours of each other he’s born on September 27th on born in September 28th as we both lived in Jersey City and Bayonne respectively like a mile from each other. We both moved to the suburbs too talent right next to each other around the same time in the 70s in the 80s we ended up living on the same street and going to the same Boston University and eating in the same vegetarian cafeteria . And we both moved to New York and I would see him at parties that were largely made up of performers and comedians . Then when he got his TV show is living room set was I exact living room that is to say a Brown crate&barrel sofa with Nantucket Gray walls which are actually green . I started doing the afterglow festival he was on a TV show called glow not to mention the fact that his comedy resonates with me because we have all the same issues. So I went on to Instagram today and first thing I see is a posting of the meal marked made which featured Golden beets . I don’t know that I’ve ever cooked with Golden beets in my life and so it goes. It’s about 4:20 in the afternoon ironically since I’m not smoking anything and it wasn’t a terribly unproductive day I did manage to reject the introduction and hand that along and I’ll get the artwork also out of my hands. There isn’t much to cook today which is also very good we will have a chicory salad with pears and walnuts and blue cheese again leftover from the other day not the salad but the ingredients. And we have that nice and warm and toasty red onion soup to eat as well. So that will be an easy supper Meanwhile I can’t say that I’m behind but I’m not exactly driving forward either I am doing the best I can do and that’s all I can do and that’s all I will do. I’m still in a bit of a real estate spin down but I’ll just let that ride. I’m going to spend a little time getting the T shirts and books moving. This week is going to bring news I know so I have to keep my head on straight. And I’m going to let that be easy I’m gonna let the winter work its magic and over the course of the next three months some odd days I’m going to draft this entire book all in one go that’s my plan 

I do find that I get a lot of words down when I really give over to this dictating jazz and so it’s important to do parent let’s try to think of a word something along the lines of pandemis ISM which is the narcissism that stems from global pandai everybody has to have their thing everybody has to have the way in which they are presenting and this marries to where I was in the book actually so this is kind of a good segue. ’cause I was talking about Bing a good performer which means you know like not pejorative but in the sense of like being one who doesn’t choke in the performance of things but they’re kind of pros and that way which is a good thing to be for sure. This is also day one of my dry white season. I don’t want to get ahead of myself I know that much but I would enjoy I would enjoy being the most productive may I could be in the next epic. It would be smart to be pre approved for stuff so that we can jump on them when it happens and I’ll see what all that entails this week as well if I can really get the bulk of my work done in the wee hours of the morning and that will put me in good stead to handle the mental machinations of the afternoon of which there will be many I’m sure what I want to emphasize is that we are approaching all of this from a position of strength not weakness that we are we have time on our hands there’s no gatherings being scheduled we have an impeccable history matter what sort of libel is he asked people might want to put forth and when I say people I mean monsters I mean animals I mean serious creeps with no rights to do with their doing and we have justice on our side and that’s all that child remain important in truth so we will be addressing all of that and I will get everything I need to to my bookkeeper and all that jazz 

The following blocks of text are exceprts from my first year of  Blagues, nos. 1386-1390. I am reading through all of my Blagues, five per day, and posting some samples here. Now, in my sixth year of writing this Blague, by the time I get to my seventh, I will have journeyed through all the daily Blagues of my first five years. If that’s confusing I apologize. Year seven, I’ll only have to read through year six, once a day.

Today we are going to talk about all of it…and doing so might spill over into tomorrow. I will be writing the equivalent of three Blagues a day to “catch up” by March 3 when I see John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask (and Amber!) in their Boston appearance of the Origin of Love show. But what has happened to me between today, somewhere between February 15 and March 3? Good question. Well last you saw us we arrived to help out someone who was undergoing a procedure. We learned in the days after that some existing pardigms had shifted very far in one direction due in large part to one individual. That individual doesn’t read so I’m in no danger of giving anything away—I learned that lesson when I accidentally put the name Erin Markey into my Blague, once, instead of initials or some petname as I typically do (I’m assuming, Erin, that you Google yourself or how else would you have found this Blague in the first place lol! Love you. Mean it!).  Remember when you had to hit the space bar twice to signal the end of a sentence?  Well here I am both doing the best I can and also fucking up more than I ever have. I have notables in my midst and sometimes it’s a challenge not to fall into beta mode. Thing is, I might very well be a beta. I would tend to be in same-gender situations as I’m only attracted to those who are more alpha than I. Otherwise what’s the point? I think females make the best femmes, not to say that a slew of males who are so inclined don’t individually debunk that generality. I actually wouldn’t know. There are so many things now as an adult, so many “guy things” that I wish I had been taught. The irony being that my own father shunned me because I wasn’t interested in his particular macho things when I was three years old and thereafter—boxing, American football, base/soft-ball—but he was an asshole. And I can say that because: I tried my whole life with him to find a common ground and he was, despite very good qualites, a terrorist eighty-five percent of the time. The bad qualities of my father were further embodied, one-hundred and fifty per cent by his daughter.

(Actual) today I noticed someone had tagged me on social media with a portrait of The Fallen Angel by some artist from 1898 or 1868  ( I don’t have the information in front of me and I’m not in the habit of going to look for things as such). Anyway I expalined that Lucifer (light bringer) is akin, archetypally to Apollo who challenged Zeus and also got “cast down” Zeus. We have not fully gotten into any of the myths pertaining to anybody but we all know (we all know) that the messages are there and ready to be said. And that we are the queen/queans to do it. Don’t you think? So anyway, I’m here to fill in since I got derailed on Valentine’s Day. There is a certain brand of narcissism that makes even other’s challenges about them; coupled with that, there are those for whom certain challenges aren’t actually dramatic or tragic enough so they embellish, bringing would-be tragedy into the plot even though it is entirely made up. Then, on a day when would-be scenarios should be happily avoided, it’s almost as if they wanted bad news. So they invent more problems. And you get away with murder when nobody is looking. But sometimes these sick people, who also tend to be quite stupid, pick on the wrong people. And they won’t know it  until they wake up at some point some morning weeks or maybe months from now to realize, hey, where’d Quinn go? Another good question. I hope the answer is: in Paris or Venice or some such. (Actual) today is a real turning point, the details of which I can’t yet get into.

We consoled G. this morning at 5am; and it took exactly two seconds to snap her out of crying. Then we played for a few hours and S. took her to school. I stayed in to write but the dog was acting really weird. It was hiding under my feet, tail between leg, shaking, eyes imploring balls of coal blackness. The walker had taken her out earlier; by the time she came again we chatted about how weird she was acting, the dog that is. And the walker agreed but took her out anyway for a short spell. The dog was still shaking and hiding under the hallway bench where all the shoes were. I mentioned to S and G when they returned. But soon the inlaws arrived. They had had a hard day as they attended, with S., a dear friend’s funeral. But I think they were so happy that they had good news that day from the hospital—we all were. Except, seemingly for one person, who arrived home after eight in a mood, a bad one, which he took out mainly on my beleagured inlaws which was not only mean and wrong it was so ungrateful and unspiritual it took every fiber of my being not to read the riot act. But I held my tongue. Until now when I choose to vent albeit masquedly. I’ve decided that’s a word.

Woke up this morning at 4 o’clock because one has no choice when someone gets up and bangs around and uses a loud coffee grinder. This sort of behavior is nothing new but this present exhibition started hours even earlier than usual.  The whining took the form of wondering if the inlaws should be delivered an apology. Of course they should be (they never were by the way). And I got an apology to which I said: I didn’t take it personally (which was really only half true). I did say that I found it strange because, by rights, yesterday should have been a day of celebration given the news from the hospital. But, you see, as I said yesterday, good news wasn’t necessarily what this character was after. I know it’s sick to say that but what other conclusion could one draw? The dog was still acting weird. I strongly suggested she be taken to the vet. This suggestion was met with a soliloquy about how her behavior signalled that she was dying—that she was “leaving the pack” by hiding under benches and in closets and that, as the person delivering this monologue was the “alpha”, she was especially detaching from him. Okay. So all the more reason then to take her to the vet, no? No. She had been given pain killers and she was zonked out was part of the non-reason why not. He set off. S., G. and mother inlaw were going to hang out together and have lunch. The land phone rang and it was S’s cousin saying her mother, sister of mother-in-law, was in hospice (and would die just two days later). Another tragic blow in the midst of a drama that should have been all good news. Then the cell phone rang. It was guess who.

Now he’s saying that, on the urging of his ailing wife, the dog does need to go to vet after all and that she actually had an appointment made by phone from the hospital. And guess who had to take her. Not me. But S. and G. with mother inlaw joining in solidarity. That fucker. Now my eyes were coal black. But S. being the kind trooper that she is rose to the occasion and after that went to the hospital, all three, themselves. They didn’t take our car because it was out of wiper fluid and the windshield was streaked. I would go get fluid and some wine and dinner fixins. The inlaws were not going to join because my feeling is they still felt burnt and abused by he who sucks all the kind air out of the room. I made homemade chicken stock and added it to a pasta sauce with onion and pre-made pesto and it was super yummy. It was just S. and G. and me and it was really fun. I said i wanted a dessert that was chewy, crunchy, cold and creamy—that was the challenge—and so I was brought a concoction of nuts and marshmallows and kefir and some frozen fruit bits. I named it the Uncle Lynnie. Upon his return it was more of the same as last evening only in a more silent and seething form before he took G. up to bed with him which, these many years on, is getting super weird. But that’s not my business. The next morning, TCM had on some great musicals in a row that we were enjoying watching—it was something of a cinema class, with Meet Me in St. Louis, Top Hat, and Annie Get Your Gun. We only saw the last bit of the first one. The second one was thrilling for its dancing and G. loves dancing. And the last one, during which she drew and through which we talked, she found inspiring in  that her description of it was that “it was about a woman who did everything better than men which made them angry but she did what she did anyway.” I’m paraphrasing. The we got a text: Have G. call me. Apparently we were not only ratted out there for apparently ruining the child by letting her watch old great musicals on a Sunday morning while we waited for her parents return but also to the parent’s parents who, when she was taken down to visit them, made comment about television that telegraphed the fact that they had news of our supposed bad influence. That was all brother.

Happily we had dinner down at the inlaws and escaped the crazy for awhile. But only after it became clear that the world had been let known about this brief hospitalization and that it was being used as a test to see “who your real friends really are” and apparently a whole bunch of people who should have been there (for him—this is him speaking) weren’t. And, as we learned, even those of us who were there were doing everything wrong despite the fact that we were shopping and cooking and cleaning and babysitting and chauffering and dog sitting and taking said dog to the doggy doctors. Even we were the problem. No words of thanks. Only side-eye derision. And folks, when I’m done I’m done and let me tell you I am done.

Could not get up and out fast enough. It being President’s Day, were weren’t hitting much traffic. I had replaced the wiper fluid and yet, as we got past Boston, it wasn’t working, and the windshield was turning from streaky to a complete white out. I barely got us off the highway where we regrouped and I opened the hood and it seemed we were already out of fluid which meant there was a leak. We got on highway, cranking the defrost, and doing all we could but we were in a complete white out once again and I couldn’t see where I was driving but for through a tiny unstreaked spot at the top of the window. We pulled off again, some exit in Quincy, and saw a gas station mini mart. I went in to ask for some kind of help and as it turned out the mechanics attached to the building were actually working and just opening and a young middle eastern looking worker said we could pull in after he shoveled. I didn’t mention it had been snowing like made all night and we had left in an accumulation of about four or five inches. I was praying that it was a hose that was broken and not the resevoir itself. It was the hose and it was cut in two places which seems impossible because one would have to remove the entire casing in order to get at it. It might have just frozen then cracked. Either way. We went to pay and they wouldn’t let us pay. I show of human kindness from strangers after days of shade from so-called family. A little cosmic blague from the universe to reaffirm our faith in humanity. We were only going to be home for three nights during which time there would be a number of marks to hit. I for one will get much of my finances in order. And make sure I’m up to speed on that score. It is essential to know my finances before I begin to fundraise and cast the next year’s festivals and series. And I have a show to promote for Thursday sales of which are starting to pick up thankfully. Now I will resume my thoughts and feels on the signs. I’ve taken a long enough break, me thinks, on that score.

Working on some materials for the lawyers today and continuing to promote our Desiree Burch show tomorrow. Life is good and I cannot complain. I have been enjoying even the bleakness of this winter. I am happy to be staying put and to be preserving as much resource as I may, gearing up for the Spring ahead, which I intend to enter with clear vision. Speaking of which I need to make a bunch of doctor’s appointments. Not very interesting information for you but you don’t really exist. I am a Blaguer without readers and I really don’t mind the fact. I want freedom most via this medium; and it has become something of a motor for me. I don’t always have brilliant or interesting things to say but I do my best and that’s all I can do really. I’ll admit I feel rather lonely today. I am happy to have gone higher in my aspiration regarding friendships, having set the bar too low for many years (as a result of my upbringing) always ending up with subtle or outright narcissists and, ultimately, abusers who have a need to make others (all others, not just me) feel less than. And then you wake up one day and realize you’re not being served in these relationships but where does one go to foster male relationships in particular at this age. It isn’t easy. I have thousands of acquaintances meanwhile and clients whom I love like children (weird to say? but true). Still I’ll admit that I’ve lost my confidence on the subject of friends; and for someone like myself for whom it is easy to isolate, that’s not always a good thing. Although it can feel like it—blessed solitude.

Everything in the positive: There really is no other option. I must lead with optimism on all fronts with nary a whiff of selling myself short. The books especially have got to be easy and accessible for all their high-mindedness. And I really must come down. Today I shall pave the way toward doing just that. First I have to get over some certain physical discomfort. I’ve been doing nothing but typing and driving and I’m feeling a bit worse for wear in the arms and shoulders department. I’m looking so forward to putting all the pieces together. It will soon be March and that will be the last of three months of prioritizing all the scaffolding work I hate to do most in my year. But it will allow me to get things primed. Still we must listen to Chanel about not banging on walls expecting them to be doors. Come Spring we will focus on the starting of things and begin to map out other projects that seem most promising. It will be around that time, in April, when we can do a good deal of local travel. We will have some understanding of where book projects might go and we will officially be approaching.

I really was in love with the Christmas show we put on this year. Everything seemed to click, but I dare say I was still feeling my holiday oats, which originated that week, for a month at least after. And my solace has been writing. I’ve had to fling myself around hither and thither, mainly lots of Boston and back, and writing too here has served and soothed me. It has become my salvation in so many ways where it has more often been my albatross. It has still been feeling very Februarylike, pale and stretched thin, soul exposed, transparent. The unbearable lightness of being. There is something about this time of year turning the corner, the new evolutionary generation of a year. That’s so Aquarius, which we leave today for Pisces. And not ungratefully so as in Pisces I can focus on the melting, dissolution being the energy associated with it’s ruler sign of Neptune.

Here I am talking about Pisces, while I should focus my mind on Scorpio. Some more notes I need to flesho out:Desire bring obtainment. Aspiration achievement. Someone said something like that. psychic possession. Miners for meaning. hearts of gold.Their brand of spirituality embraces mystery. Comfortable with uncertainty. They keep us guessing this is the whole Persephone on her thrown bit not.

Dragons of lust, obsession, fear, shame, repressed power to be released—which is akin to the regeneration energy akin with it’s sign. Eighth house of sex death regeneration where we merge most deeply with other the other motto we have “something together” an abstract possession. Joint banking.  There is often intrigue? Is there? I think I might be ready to transition to the next sign now. ‘Tis a long time coming trust me.

To view the original Sabian Symbol themed 2015 Cosmic Blague corresponding to this day: Flashback! The degree point of the Sabian Symbol may at times be one degree higher than the one listed here. The Blague portrays the starting degree of for this day ( 0°,  for instance), as I typically post in the morning, while the Sabian number corresponds to the end point (1°) of that same 0°-1° period. There are 360  degrees spread over 365/6 days per year—so they nearly, but not exactly, correlate.

Typos happen. I don’t have a proofreader. And I like to just write, post and go! Copyright 2020 Wheel Atelier Inc. All Rights Reserved. Get your HAUTE ASTROLOGY 2020 Weekly Horoscope ebooks by Starsky + Cox.